Exactly two years ago Rohit Bal, the doyen of Indian fashion, suffered a sudden heart attack. Panicky notes of concern flowed forth from all quarters, accompanied by an undercurrent of commentary about Bal’s notoriously decadent lifestyle. The years of hard partying had finally caught up with him, people said, and here were the consequences.

What’s often glossed over amid chatter about Bal’s heady ways is that over the past 25 years, he’s distinguished himself as a menswear pioneer, marketing maven, cultural flashpoint, serial entrepreneur and master of the controlled spectacle. Make no mistake: Beneath all the pomp, pageantry and theatre accompanying him is a wily mind at work – constantly reading trends, ensuring he stays in the news and scoping out new opportunities to expand his eponymous brand.

Following the heart attack, Bal, now 56 years old, says he’s a lot more discriminating about the number and nature of events he attends, only marking his presence when and where necessary. This helps him focus on the things that matter – like his collections, restaurants, numerous brand extensions and an autobiography that will be published by Penguin this year. A book that will be nothing if not interesting.

You came of age in the Nineties. What was it like then? The Nineties in India was a decade of excess, a time when everything was new. It was a turning point, not just for fashion designers, but also production houses, models, photographers. Advertising suddenly exploded, the media became huge. It gave birth to many creative professions. It was a time of revolution in every sphere of lifestyle. Fashion became something you aspired to. The Nineties gave birth to a new celebrity – the fashion designer – and it suddenly became the most glamorous profession to be in, an unimaginable shift in perception. It also marked the rise of the socialite and Page 3.

Yet people had to surmount all sorts of obstacles at the time. What was special about the creative tribe back then? There was a group of about 20 people – I include myself among them – who were visionaries and fighters. We were progressive, revolutionary thinkers, who battled the odds to make it. At times it was like hitting your head against a wall because we were trying to do things that’d never been done in India before, things that were once looked down upon. It wasn’t just about fashion, but the overall liberation of one’s mind. A sexual liberation – it was just bursting at the seams. This group included people like Prabuddha [Dasgupta], Feroze Gujral, Marilou Philips and Shyamoli Varma. These were the new, glamorous celebrities of our country. And it’s the hard work put in by everyone involved during that period that’s helped lead us to where we are today. We made India fashionable.

Your fondest memories of that period were… My best memories are of complete abandonment. I went through life doing what I wanted, not caring what it meant to anyone else. As long as it made me happy, I did it. We used to go out, drink and party. It was all about clubs, late nights and no restrictions. There weren’t any deadlines or curfews back then – places were open till 6am. We’d party for days. The early Nineties were incredible because we were grown up enough to have the means to enjoy ourselves, but not famous enough to be concerned.

The media was much smaller then, too. These days, everyone’s become cautious and started centering their lives on what the media will report, and how people will react. At that time, it didn’t matter. There was a core group of us, and we knew millions of people. We still know millions – the only difference is, we don’t know their names. I’ve shifted from being a person who knew everyone, to someone everyone knows.

But there are benefits to fame… And they far outweigh the restrictions. I don’t remember having to wait to enter a place in 20 years, or feeling uncomfortable anywhere. It’s not arrogance, just achievement.

Has the media ever really frustrated you? There have been several unnecessary attempts to pull me down – for instance, when this whole supposed cocaine bust happened. They ran large articles in every newspaper. I remember they printed my photograph, along with three others, on the front page, like we were convicts.

How do you handle something like that? You have to be resilient. I knew what the truth was, but I wasn’t naïve enough to think the story wouldn’t affect my business… It did. I picked up the phone and spoke to the editors and publishers, I sent them legal notices, and they instantly realized they’d done something wrong. Then there were the individual journalists who wanted to pull me down. I never gave in and didn’t suck up to them, either – never called them up or gave them gifts. There were lots of journalists who hated me for that. But at the end of the day, the press has also been my guardian angel. It’s made me the most famous designer in the country. Who else could have done that for me?

Your early menswear collections really pushed the envelope at the time – guys in skirts with nose rings. Were you trying to be radical? Man is meant to be flamboyant and, across species, is the more colourful of the two sexes. In India, men missed out because their wardrobes were dictated by their mothers and wives. I was interested in liberating the Indian man. So I’ve done things that are a bit unusual, but it was never my version of androgyny. I wanted to accentuate the Indian man’s masculinity by dressing him up in things he doesn’t normally wear. That comes from my understanding of history, of the history of male costume. I wanted to dress models who were the epitome of manliness – people like Arjun Rampal and Milind Soman. I wanted to show India that you could be male, wear my clothes and not worry about your sexuality.

How open to your ideas were male models of the time? They were as open as I was. They were a cooler lot and confident about who they were. Also, because there were such few models and designers at the time, the personal equations between them were amazing – the friendships were fabulous. There was trust and faith. If I asked Arjun to wear a skirt, he’d do it because he trusted me. I’ve put sindoor on men, done all sorts of things… but it never crossed over to bad taste.

Was it a cooler time? It wasn’t a cool time, but we made cool happen. There’s a big difference.